Tuesday, August 19, 2008

SICKLY BOY
Jesse's been sick a lot lately. Coughing like an old man. So much so, he actually puked a couple of time. One time, his Grandpa was buying us dinner at San Francisco Steak House and the boy was enjoying an ice cream dessert when he suddenly wailed. I knew at once he was gonna puke. I told Mae to take him to the toilet but the poor boy never made it. Thankfully he hurled right outside the toilet door, away from the other diners. I carried him afterwards and as he clutched on to me, he looked up at me all teary-faced and ask, "Daddy, what's wrong with me?" Broke my heart to pieces.

RENOVATIO
We're moving. And hence, renovating. It's a pain in the ass, especially if you're a nitpicky bastard like me. I can't decide if I want the wardrobe 6 inches wider, or the lightswitches half an inch lower, or the sink an inch to the right. These things bug me so much that I bring a measuring tape to bed with me, just so I can think about it. My indecision should cost me a lot of wasted time. But my contractor doesn't really give a damn, so it all works out in the end. Bleh.

NEW MAID
Anie's gone. By Thursday she will be out of our lives, and quite prematurely too. The sneaky girl somehow managed to secretly buy herself a mobile phone and kept it hidden for months. Turns out she had been calling up some guy at a minimarket near our home. It was all very clandestine and we're a little concerned. If she had been calling home, we might have been more understanding, and perhaps more forgiving. We decided she was a security risk and that she should leave. But at the same time, we feel sorry about sending her away. She's like family. Just family with secrets. *sigh* Jesse will be devastated.

PROJECT BLOG
As if I dun already suck at updating, I've been thinking about a new blog. One little space for the little projects I do - like decorating and renovating. And designing. And craft. We'll see. Maybe I'll procrastinate my way out of this one too.

PHOTOS
This could be a much nice blog if I can get off my ass long enough to scan some photos, or even to download them from my camera. Ugh. I have shots of Jesse and me with Ultraman Max. I got pictures of my contractor. I have shots of Jesse doing homework and it's really cute too. Heh. I suck at blogging. Oh, I said that already.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

According to Einstein's lesser known Theory of Abdominal Regurgitation™, the Ickiness index™ of human vomit increases exponentially with the age of the said human. In his infancy, a typical human child, during the occasion of any random gastrointestinal expulsion, will expel a projectile that is low on the Ickiness Index™. The quality of the said vomit will be of a transluscent white liquid, fluid consistency that emits a pleasant aroma - often associated with babies and breakfast cereal.

As the human child progresses in age, his projectiles will be higher up the Ickiness Index™ demonstrating a thicker consistency often coupled with solid masses. The colour will also be darker usually with a spectrum of hues, and the odour unbearable.

The poor boy must have drank a little too much milk. He'd gone to sleep for almost an hour when he started coughing and hacking. And the next thing we knew, the boy's supper was making a comeback. He sat up on bed looking all groggy and disoriented after the first wave, and I quickly recognised that as the calm before the storm.

I lifted my t-shirt up to his face and he let loose all over it. We quickly gave him a wipe down and a change of jammies and he went back to bed as though nothing had happened.

Meanwhile, Daddy spent the next hour (almost, I kid you not) spraying the gook off the sheets and the shirt. It was a light brown gelatinous liquid with half-digested Nyonya Kueh, corn kernels and a bloody blueberry. And it refused to come off.

What's The Story?

This is the continuing saga of James and Mae. And our little tykes, Jesse and Maddie. Brought to you in living colour. Presented in exciting Cinemascope and Sense-surround. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.